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3fi/ dear little Friends : 

The interesting arid instructive "Stories about Whale-Catch- 
ing," which I am now about to tell you, were written by a worthy 
clergyman of one of our beautiful little inland towns, and were print- 
ed in a somewhat larger book than this, several years ago. As they 
then delighted a great many little folks, who are now grown into men 
and women, I have good reason to hope they will not be uninteresting 
to you also. 1 was much pleased with them myself, for they are told 
in that easy and familiar style which children can readily understand. 
Accordingly, I thought, if I could add these, and the •' Stories about 
THE Elephant,'' by the same gentleman, to my already long list 
of " Teller's Tales," I should be doing you all an acceptable favor. 
I am happy in being able to tell you, that the author has very kindly 
given me permission to do so. For this, I doubt not you will all 
thank him as heartily as I do. I have told you these stories almost in 
his own words, having only left out a small part, which I had not room 
for, in a book of this size. That the reading of them ma}' prove pleas- 
ant and profitable to you all, is the wish and hope of your 

Old friend and well-wisher, 

Roseville Hall, 1845. Thomas Teller. 





L IS 



T 4 






S STORIES 

ABOUT WHALE CATCHING 



THE STORM. 

"They'll have a hard time of it to-night I fear," 
said the old man, as he closed the outside door, 
after lookino^ abroad; "a bad time — but John is a 
good sailor, and the Betsey is a good ship. I guess 
they'll weather it. I've seen many a worse time." 

"I tremble for them," said Mrs. Russel, the excel- 
lent wife of the son of the old man who had just 
spoken; "it will prove a gloomy night, I fear. Is 
there any prospect of its breaking away?" 

"None," replied the old man; "the storm in- 
creases." 

"Oh ! my dear husband !" exclaimed Mrs. Rus- 
sel, justly alarmed: "What will become of you I 
The Lord be gracious!" 

"Do you think father will be shipwrecked?" 
eagerly inquired Anne, a daughter ten years of 
age, who, seeing her mother's anxiety, had thrown 
herself partly into her lap. 



THE STORM. 



"I hope not, my child," replied Mrs. R. ; "your 
father is well acquainted with the management of 
a ship. We should hope for the best. God can 
protect on the water, as well as on the land." 

"But the storm is a mighty one," said Anne; 
"do you hear the wind roar, mother?" 

" Yes, it blows severely ; but, my child, we must 
trust all with God." 

"/ don't believe father v/ill be shipwrecked," 
exclaimed William, a courageous, unthinking lad 
of twelve years ; " he knows enough to keep off 
shore in such a storm as this." 

"But the wind is strong, William," said Anne, 
"and grandfather told us, you know, that it was 
inland, and might drive the ship on shore. Oh 
dear, how bad I feel!" 

"You are always frightened if the wind blows 
any," said Wilham. "When I go to sea, I hope 
we shall not have a crying girl on board." 

"But you are not going to sea," said Anne. 

"I am going the next voyage that father makes,'^ 
said WilUam. 

"But this is his last voyage, Wilham," replied 
Anne. "Mother told me so." 

"Did you tell her so, mother?" asked Wilham. 

"Yes, my son; if your father is prospered in his 
present voyage, I hope he will not go any Riore " 



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THE STORM. 



"Well, /mean to go," said William. 

"I hope not, mv son," said Mrs. Russel. " ft is 
a dangerous life. How would you feel if you 
were at sea to-night 1" 

"I wish I was on b-o-a-r-d — " This last word 
was feebly uttered and scarcely heard; for at that 
moment a flash of lightning poured its blaze 
through every window, and the peal of thunder 
which almost instantly followed, shook the house 
upon its foundations. 

Such was the conversation which took place at 
Capt. John Russel's during a severe thunder storm 
which had suddenly arisen on the evening alluded 
to above, and raged most of the night following. 

Capt. Russel was the commander of a whaling 
ship. He had followed this kind of life for several 
years, and generally with considerable success. 

With the property thus acquired, he had pur- 
chased a few acres of land, on which he had built 
a neat house, delightfully situated near the sea, and 

commanding a full view of the harbor of B , 

and of many leagues of the Atlantic Ocean, which 
stretched out on either side of the harbor. 

The family of Capt. Russel consisted of a father 
— the old man already mentioned, who had been 



g THE STORM. 

an experienced master of a vessel in the same bu- 
siness; but who for several years, by reason of the 
infirmities of age, had been chiefly confined to the 
house; of Mrs. Russel, his wife, and WiUiam and 
Ann, their two children, whom we have noticed 
before. 

Capt Russel had now been absent on a w^haling 
voyage, for more than two years. As he designed 
this to be his last voyage, he had told Mrs. Russel 
that he should prolong it till his cargo was full; 
but that he hoped he should be permitted to return 
in at least two years. That time had now passed 
away; and for several weeks the family had been 
anxiously expecting his arrival. During this time, 
the children had daily w^atched the vessels as they 
hove in sight, and passed along, and often did they 
imagine that the Betsey-Anne, the ship in which 
Capt. Russel had sailed, was approaching. 'Grand- 
father! grandfather!' or 'mother! mother! they're 
coming ! they're coming !' — was frequently heard ; 
and so common had this exclamation become, that 
neither their grandfather or mother, at length, paid 
much attention to it. 

On the morning of the day preceding the storm 
to which w^e have alluded, the children had spied 
a ship at quite a distance, which, as usual, they 



THE STORM. 



announced as the Betsej-Anne. Little attention 
was paid to this announcement at the time. The 
day was fine, ahhough warm and sukry; but the 
wind was so Ught, tliat she made but little progress. 
By noon, however, she had approached so near, 
and looked so suspicious even to the naked eye, 
that the aged grandfather brought forth a spy-glass, 
which, in common times, no one handled but him- 
self. It was a favorite instrument — one that had 
been his companion for many a voyage, and had 
enabled him to escape many a ship of war, and 
many an iceberg in the Northern Ocean. 

"It's certainly the Betsey-Anne," said William. 

"I don't know, master WiUiam, I don't know," 
said the old man. "Wiser folks than you have 
been many a time mistaken, but this'' said he, 
pointing to his spy-glass, " I guess will determine 
the point." 

With some effort the old gentleman, accompa- 
nied by WiUiam and Anne, reached a good place 
at a short distance from the house, and the obser 
vation began. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the aged grandfather, as he 
vainly attempted to hold the spy-glass steady, "I 
was once a good marksman; but my day is over." 
He contrived, however, to catch a glance of the 
ghip, but his eye was dinj, and he could only doubt. 



20 THE STORM. 

"Grandfather, grandfather, let me look!" said 
Wiihani; "I am sure I can tell. It's her! it's cer- 
tainly her! It's the Betsej-Anne — I'm sure it is," 
exclaimed he, as he looked through the glass. 

"Pray, brother Wilham, let me look," said Anne. 

"Have a little patience," said Wilham. "You 
can not tell. I don't beheve you can point the 
glass even so as to see her." 

Again William was positive that it w^as the 
Betsey-Anne.f He could see her flag, and he 
thought he could see her name, which, it was 
known, Avas painted in broad letters upon it. 

"Ah!" said the old man, "it may be true that it 
is the Betsey-Anne; it may be true that her flag 
is flying; but her distance is too great for you to 
read her name. Master William." 

William, however, felt certain ; and Anne, when 
she looked, was almost sure, although it was doubt- 
ful whether she saw^ the ship at all; even their 
mother, who w^as Anally called, could not but think 
she saw — indistinctly, indeed — tiie favorite name. 

"It may be," said the old man; "my eyes are 
dim — I had only a glimpse. Heaven grant it is." 

The afternoon proved hot and sultry. Scarcely 
a breath of wind waved the leaves of the trees, and 
it was quite plain that the ship, whatever she was. 



THE STORM. 



11 



was motionless on the water. At last they saw 
her sails lowered, for the purpose, as was supposed, 
of waitino^ until the evening; breeze should enable 
her to approach the harbor. 

In a few hours, however, a dark cloud was seen 
gathering in the west, and indications of an ap- 
proaching storm came thick and fast. The cloud 
at length rose ; the lightnings were seen flashing at 
a distance, and now then a peal of thunder broke 
upon the ear. By turns the vessel and the cloud 
were watched. At length the anxious and watch- 
ful group upon the hill saw, with delight, the sails 
of the vessel spread to the wind. It was apparent 
that an effort was making to reach a more secure 
place of anchorage. Indeed, the hope was in- 
dulged, that the storm might delay until the vessel 
could reach her destined birth. For a short time 
she was seen proudly urging her way through the 
waters; but soon she was seen turning her course, 
and once more standing out into the waters of the 
broad Atlantic. 

"What can it mean, mother?" inquired the 
anxious little Anne. 

"Mean," rephed Wilham, who undertook to 
answer the question, "they don't mean to get on 
the rocks ; that's what it means," 



22 THE ARRIVAL, 

"There's danger, my dear," said the old man, 
'^of an inland breeze. Seamen like sea-room in 
a night like this. They are wise in standing out." 

The rapid approach of the storm now warned 
the family to seek the shelter of the house, and 
here occurred the conversation with which we 
commenced our story. 



THE ARRIVAL. 

The storm continued to rage, as we have inti- 
mated, until a late hour of the night. The anxiety 
of Mrs. Russel, althoush she was one of those 
whose hearts are fixed, trusting in God, prevented 
her seeking repose until towards morning. Even 
then her slumbers were broken and unrefreshing, 
and at an early hour she rose under the sad uncer- 
tainty of what might have befallen her husband, if 
indeed the ship they had seen was his. 

It was a delicious summer morning. The clouds 
had dispersed; the sun was coming forth in all his 
glory; and although the waters of the ocean were 
rolling in long and distant weaves, it was apparent 
that as the cause of this agitation had ceased, tran- 
quility would soon repose on the bosoni of the 
deep. 



THE ARRIVAL. 



13 



It is ncitural to suppose that the eyes of the 
whole family would be directed with eager gaze 
upon the harbor and ocean. They were so. But 
not a single vessel was now in sight, unless it was 
one which was aground on the opposite side of 
the harbor; this was a smaller vessel than the 
Betsey- Ann. The shores were scrutinized, but, 
except this vessel, nothing looked like a wrecL 

Mrs. Russel communicated this intelligence to 
her aged father, whose infirmities had prevented 
him from rising as early as the rest of the family. 

"It is good news!" said the old man: "I trust 
they succeeded in getting out to sea." 

"No doubt they did," said William, who had 
followed his mother to the bed-side of his grandfa- 
ther; "they'll be in before night, I dare say/' 

"It may be they've sunk," said Anne. "It was 
a dreadful storm." 

" I hope not, my child," said the old man. 
" The wind where they were, might have been 
favorable to carry them out to sea. Before a fair 
wind, even if it be strong, a sound ship is not 
easily sunk." * 

The prediction of William, that the Betsey- 
Anne would arrive that day, was not realized. 
Indeed, before night a rumor reached the family 



]^4 THE ARRIVAL. 

that several vessels had been stranded on the 
shore, several miles from their residence ; and, 
as conjecture would have it, it was suspected by 
some, that among them was the Betsey-Anne. 

"It is of little consequence," said Mrs. Russel, 
" what becomes of the vessels and their cargoes, 
if the crews be but safe." But as to this, nothing 
satisfactory could be learned. It proved, how- 
ever, not long after, that the vessels in question 
were chiefly coasters. No tidings could be ob- 
tained to satisfy Mrs. Russel that even their sus- 
picions were correct, that the vessel which they 
had seen belonged to her husband. This she 
was now wilhng to believe, glad as she would 
have been, under other circumstances, to have 
hailed his arrival. This conjecture was the more 
firmly believed, as no intelligence could be ob- 
tained, that the Betsey-Anne had either been 
seen or spoken, which it was thought she probably 
would have been, had she actually arrived. 

The morning of the fourth day brought tidings, 
however, of Captain Russel. On that morning, 
Wilham had risen earher than the rest of the 
family ; and, casting his eye on the harbor, he 
discovered a vessel, the flag of which he knew to 
be the Betsey-Anne's, slowly approaching the 



15 




n 



THE ARRIVAL. ;^'7 

place where she usually lay when at anchor. 
He stayed not to mark minutely ker altered ap- 
pearance ; but, rushing into the house, vociferated 
from the entrance, in a voice which roused every 
inmate of the family : — " They've come — They've 
come !" 

Mrs. R. and Anne soon made their appearance; 
and, although the former well knew the natural 
confidence of her son, she was more inchned than 
usual to beheve him, in this instance, correct. 

"I really hope you are correct, my son," replied 
Mrs. Russel, approaching the window, and casting 
her eye down the harbor, on the vessel in question. 

" Noiu w^hat do you think, mother ]" earnestly 
inquired Wilham, catching her countenance, as he 
put the question. 

" Why, my son, I am not sure," said Mrs. Rus- 
sel. " We shall have a better view from the brow 
of the hill." 

Accordingly they all proceeded to a spot at 
some distance, which commanded a still better 
view than the one from the house. 

" I don't beheve it is the Betsey- Anne," said lit- 
tle Anne, — " why, how she looks ! what can the 
matter be, mother 1" 

" They must have had a sad time of it," said 
Mrs. Russel, " whoever they be." 



18 



THE ARRIVAL. 



" Why, mother, the masts are all gone, I should 
think," said Anne. 

" They have come in under a jury-mast," said 
Mrs. Russel. " They must have encountered a 
terrible storm. The Lord be praised, that they 
have escaped." 

" It is the Betsey-Anne, then ]" said Wilham, 
observing the emotion of his mother. 

" I beheve it is, my son," said Mrs. Russel. " Let 
us be thankful that God has been merciful. If 
your father and his men are only safe — " 

" Oh ! how I tremble," said Anne — " perhaps 
father was washed overboard !" 

" I trust not, my child," said Mrs. Russel — at the 
same time preparing to look through a spy-glass, 
which she had brought with her. 

Her hand trembled souie — what affectionate 
wife's hand, under such circumstances, would not 
have trembled ? — as she brought the glass to bear 
upon the vessel. For a moment the blood forsook 
her cheek — but it soon returned, and a sweet smile 
was seen playing there — 

'' My children I your father has arrived — he is 
safe." 

"Can you see him ! can you see him?" earnestly 
inquired WilUam — " pray, mother, let me look" 



THE ARRIVAL. -^Q 

"Oh !" said the enraptured boy, "I can see him; 
he is looking through a spy-glass directly at us^' 

"Let me look, brother William," said Anne. 

** Hold," said William ; " pretty soon — I want 
to catch a glimpse of old Tom. He was so old^ 
that father said, you know, he feared he would 
die. But he would go." 

" Can you see your father, my child ?" inquired 
Mrs. Russel, as she held the glass for Anne." 

"Why, I don't know," said Anne, "I see some- 
thing, but — " 

" I hardly think you will be able to see him, 
through the glass," observed Mrs. Russel — " but I 
hope you will see him here, before night." 

" Oh !" said Anne, " I ^ hope — " 

The progress of the vessel was slow, owing to 
the smallness of the sail under which she came, 
and the lightness of the breeze which prevailed. 
But, at length, she reached her usual anchoring 
place, some distance from the wharf. Soon after 
this a boat put off, and was urged towards the main 
land, in fine style, by several hearty oarsmen. 

Mrs. Russel and her children had arrived at the 
wharf, ready to receive and welcome the husband 
and the father* 



20 'I'flE EXFi^aNATION. 

It was a happy meetings — but I shall not at^ 
tempt to describe it. My httle readers may judg^ 
how happy it was — a meeting of a fond husband, 
and an affectionate wife — of a kind father, and 
deUghted children ; and this after a long separa- 
tion — after a tempest, too, which had well nigh 
separated them forever. 

In a short time the party proceeded towards the 
house. The interview between Capt. R. and his 
aged father was almost too much for the old man. 

"I did'nt much expect to see you again, in thi3 
world," said the hoary-headed old man. "You 
must have had a hard time of it, at last." 

"A severe storm, indeed," replied Capt. Russel, 
"but a good Providence preserved us." 

"A merciful Providence, truly !" ejaculated the 
old man. 



THEEXPLA NATION. 

Capt. Russel now proceeded briefly to say, that 
his voyage, "though unexpectedly long, had been 
pleasant and prosperous ; and on the morning you 
first saw the Betsey-Anne, we had a fair prospect 
of entering the harbor and anchoring before night. 
But the wind suddenly failed us, and during the 
day we were obliged to exercise patience. 



\? 



1 



22 




page 29, 



^T^fJ^^^^!!!^^^^^^^^^^^!^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^'^^ 



THE EXPLaJNATION, 



23 



Towards evening, the prospect of a storm was 
such, that I felt it important to get further in. I 
indulged the hope, that we might anchor at our 
usual place before it came on. For a short time 
the wind favored us-^the vessel moved rapidly 
towards the desired haven. But it was soon 
apparent to us all, that our only chance of safety 
was, in getting as fast as possible out to sea. 
Accordingly the ship's head was turned towards 
the ocean ; and, instead of seeing you that night, 
as we had fondly hoped, we had before us the 
prospect of a watery grave. My men acted brave- 
ly, and vied with one another to save the ship. It 
was the most tempestuous night I ever witnessed^ 
No one could venture across the deck, but at thd 
hazard of being swept away. 

All at once, a cry was made by a man forward ; 
Captain, two men overboard ! — haul up ! — haul 
up ! — at the same time^ I heard the voice of Tom 
crying — Massa, massa, save poor Tom ? I'm lostj 
I'm lost ! — and of Anderson, at a still greater dis- 
tance, calling aloud for assistance. 

No time was to be lost. Yet the question waSj 
what could be done 1 The darkness of the night 
rendered it impossible to see the poor fellows — we 
could only hear them— ^and every minute was bur- 

2 



24 



THE EXPLANATION. 



rjing the vessel farther from tliem. I seized my 
trumpet, and calling as loud as I was able, bid 
them have good courage — and assured them that 
I would do all in my power to save them. 

" Did they hear you, father ?" asked WiUiam. 

"Yes," replied Capt. Russel, "it afterwards ap- 
peared that they did; otherwise they would soon 
have relinquished their efforts, and sunk. Instantly 
I ordered the ship about. It was a hazardous ex- 
periment, and well nigh had we been lost; for in 
luffing, the ship fell into a trough of the sea, and a 
fair breach was made over her. She rose again, 
however. Get ready the boat, said I. Sir, said 
the mate, it's all in vain; no boat can Hve a single 
half-hour in such a sea as this. 

Get ready the boat instantly, I repeated. In a 
few minutes it was lowered. Now, my brave lads, 
who will put their lives into God's hands, and go 
with me? 

Here ! said Thompson, stepping forward. — 
Here, captain! exclaimed Nelson. Enough, said 
I — the very men I would have chosen. Lower 
away — push oif — take care — may God preserve 
us! Fortunately we got clear of the ship in safety. 

Farewell, captain, exclaimed Mr. Kellogg, the 
mate. Farewell! farewell! said one and all; and 



THE EXPLANATION. 



25 



Quite safe — quite safe- — was the joyful answer. 

Wonderful! wonderful! exclaimed one and all. 

The time of most danger had now come. The 
heaving and rolling of the ship was dreadful. It 
was quite impossible to board her in the ordinary 
way, with safety. 

What shall we do 1 inquired Mr. Kellogg. 

Go aloft, said I, and fix a tackle to the fore-yard ; 
then throw us the rope with a strong hook to it. 

This was soon done; and now we ventured 
cautiously near enough to seize the rope, and 
made fast the hook to the bow of the boat. 

Now, said I, let each one hold tight; but poor 
Tom said he could not hold on; so I lashed him 
fast by means of a spare rope. Heave aw^ay, my 
lads — steady — strong. Up we went, boat and all. 
Higher still, said I, that w^e may be certain of 
clearing the ship's side. 

This done, the boat was swung back and forth, 
until she was directly over the deck. It w^as a 
moment of great danger; our fall might be our 
death, but it was our only chance of safety. Now, 
down! let her fall! said I, — and down we came. 
The crash was tremendous; the boat was nearly 
stoved in pieces. No one escaped injury; but, 
thanks to God, no lives were lost Poor Tom 



rv/? THE WHALE. 

suffered the most^ — his thigh was broken, and he 
was otherwise much bruised; but he is now as 
comfortable as could be expected. 

Once more on board, we wore ship, and again 
put before the wind. From this time the storm 
continued to increase, and before morning our 
masts went by the board. Soon after day-break, 
its violence was past, and before noon we were 
able to begin preparations to erect a jury-mast, 
which having done, we once more directed our 
course homeward." 



THE WHALE. 

In the course of a few weeks, Captain Russel 
found himself at leisure to enjoy the company of 
his family. During his absence, both William 
and Anne had grown very much. William, espe- 
cially, was beginning to have a considerable stock 
of ideas on many subjects; but if his thoughts 
.dwelt on any one subject more than another, it 
was on the pleasures of a sea-faring life, especially 
when connected with the wonders of whale 
catching. All this was natural. It had been the 
lousiness of bis grandfather for years, to wbosa 



THE WKALE. 



29 



Stories he had hstened with delight; and the bu- 
siness of his father, too, about whom, while absent, 
his mother had told him many a tale. 

It was natural, therefore, for William to think 
much, and talk much, about going a whalings 
when he should be old enough. And it was ap- 
parent that he felt quite unhappy when his father 
said that he should go to sea no more, and that 
he destined his son for a different sphere of life. 

"You will tell me then, father," said William, 
"what you know about the whale, and whale 
catching, if I may not gof 

"I shall do so with pleasure," rephed Captain 
Russel, "if it will gratify you, my son, and stand 
instead of your following a life so full of toil and 
danger as that of whale-catching." 

The evening following, the family having as^ 
sembled. Captain Russel entered, seated liimselfj 
and opening a book that he had brought in with 
him, presented to his children a fine picture of a 
whale, observing at the same time, "it is a very 
correct drawing of the common whale." 

•'Are there more kinds of whales than one]" 
inquired William. 

"Several varieties, about each of which I will 
tell you something," answered Capt. RusseL 

2* 



30 



TPIE WHALE. 



*' The Razor-back is the largest aiimial of the 
whale tribe, and probably the most powerful and 
most bulky of all created beings. This kind of 
whale, sometimes called the Physalis, is about one 
hundred feet long, and from thirty to forty feet 
round. The elephant seldom exceeds nine feet 
in length, and weighs not more than eight or nine 
thousand pounds; how small, then, would he be, 
compared with an animal one hundred feet long, 
ten or twelve feet thick, and weighing one hun- 
dred tonsl" 

"One hundred tons, father!" exclaimed William, 
"do you mean that the whale weighs one hun- 
dred tonsf 

"Yes, my son, and probably often more. This 
is the Razor-back whale. The Common whale is 
seldom so long, nor is he near as heavy. The 
Razor-back whale is both longer and more slen- 
der than the common whale. It is also more v o- 
lent, and swims with greater velocity. It some- 
times goes twelve miles an hour. Its breathing, 
or blowing, is also more violent." 

"Breathing! father; do whales breathe 1" 

"Yes, my son, all hsh breathe. But whales, 
being unable to separate the air from the water, 
as fishes do, by means of their gills, must come to 



THE WHALE. 



31 



the surface of the water. This they usually do 
once m five or ten minutes; but sometimes, when 
feeding, once in fifteen or twenty minutes. They 
generally remain at the surface of the water about 
two minutes, and blow eight or nine times. 

"Blow! what is meant by that, father?" 

^'You observed, my son," replied Capt. R. "in 
the picture of the whale, the appearance of water 
or vapor issuing from blow-holes placed nearly on 
the crown of the whale's head. These are sup- 
posed to be his nostrils, through which he forces 
the water with so much power, as to resemble 
the discharge of a cannon. 

The Razor-back whale, although much larger 
than the common whale, is seldom sought for by 
fishermen, both because it is much more danger- 
ous to attack, and yields much less oil, and that 
of an inferior quality." 

"Prav, father, how much oil does this kind of 
whale yield t" asked William. 

"Generally not more than twelve tuns; but the 
largest sized common whale often yields thirty." 

"You have not told us, father," observed Wil- 
liam, "what ocean this whale frequents." 

"It is found in great numbers," replied Capt. R. 
"in the Polar Seas, around the island of Nova 



52 



THE WHALE. 



Zembla, Spitzbergen, and other high latitudes 
They are often seen sporting around the icebergs, 
those immense mountains of ice which, forming 
on the coasts of the Northern regions, are at last 
detached, and float into the broad ocean. These 
are often two or three thousand feet high; and, at 
a distance, strongly resemble castles, or perhaps a 
fleet iinder full sail. Around these mountains of 
ice, so dreadful to whaling ships, the Razor-ba-cks 
play without fear. 

The Broad-nosed whale. — This species fre- 
quents the coasts of Scotland, Ireland, and Nor- 
way, and is said to feed principally upon herring, 
Its length is commonly about fifty feet, although I 
have read of several which were killed on the coast 
of Ireland, which were from seventy to eighty feet. 
This whale resembles, in several particulars, the 
Razor-back, with which it is usually classed; but 
it yields still less oil, and is never sought after as 
an object of profit. 

The FiNNER seldom, if ever, exceeds fifty feet 
in length, and twenty feet in circumference. It is 
so called, I suppose, from its having a large fin on 
its back, which is wanting in other species of the 
whale. I have read of this kind of whale, but I 
never saw one. It is found on the coast of Nor- 
way and Shetland, but is not very abundant. 



THE WHALE. 



33 



The Beaked whale is the smallest of the whole 
race, or genus. It inhabits principally the Nor- 
wegian seas, where it has been found of the length 
of about twenty feet. 

The Spermaceti whale derives its name from 
a soft and oily-feeling substance, which is found 
in its head, and to which the name of sperm, or 
spermaceti, has been given. Great use is made ol 
this, for candles, it being thought much superior to 
tallow, as it burns longer, and gives a more bril- 
liant light. This whale has been occasionally 
taken in the northern seas, especially on the 
American coast; but is found in larger numbers 
in the Southern Pacific Ocean, w^iere a great many 
of them are annually killed by American whalers. 

The common whale is generally found single, 
but spermaceti whales usually clan together; and 
herds are frequently seen containing two hundred 
or more. They are attacked as follows: — When- 
ever a number of them are seen, four boats, each 
provided with two or three lines, two harpoons, 
four lances, and a crew of six men, proceed in 
pursuit, and, if possible, each strikes or fastens to 
a distinct animal, and each crew kill their own. 
When one of the herd is struck, he commonly 
takes the lead, and is followed by the rest. He 



34 THE WHALE. 

seldom descends far under, but generally swims off 
with great rapidity, stopping after a short course, 
so that the boat can be brought up to him by the 
line, or rowed sufficiently near to lance him. In 
the agonies of death, the struggles of the animal 
are truly tremendous, and the surface of the ocean 
is lashed into foam by the motions of the fins and 
tail. Tall jets of blood are discharged from the 
blow-holes, which show that the wounds have 
taken mortal effect, and seeing this, the boats are 
kept aloof, lest they should be dashed in pieces 
by the violent efforts of the victim. When a herd 
is^ attacked in this way, ten or twelve of the num- 
ber are often killed. Those which are only 
wounded, are seldom captured. After the whale 
is killed, the boats tow^ it to the side of the ship. 
If the weather is fair, and other whales are in 
sight, they are again sent to the attack. 

Next comes the separation of the blubber, or 
fat, from the animal. This is csiWedJlensirfg, and 
is sometimes done differently from the manner 
used in Polar whaling. A strip of blubber is cut 
in a spiral direction, and being raised by a pulley, 
turns the whale round as on an axis, until all the 
blubber is stripped off The material contained 
within the head, consisting of spermaceti, mixed 



THE WHALE. 



35 



with oil, being in a fluid state while warm, is taken 
out of large whales in buckets, while the animal 
remains in the water; but in smaller ones the part 
of the head containing the spermaceti is hoisted 
on deck before the cavity is opened. 

The substances taken from the head congeal as 
soon as cold, and in this state are put into the 
casks, and are purified at the end of the voyage, 
on shore. The oil is extracted from the blubber 
much after the manner in which tallow is tried, 
by means of two copper boilers, with which whale 
ships are always furnished. As the oil is extracted, 
it is thrown into coolers, and after about twenty- 
four hours it is transferred to casks. At first, the 
coppers are heated by fire made with wood; but, 
afterwards, the refuse blubber is used, and pro- 
duces a fierce fire. 

The quantity of oil obtained from a spermaceti 
whale, is much less than that obtained from the 
common whale, but is far superior in value, being 
mixed with the substance called spermaceti. 

The Narwal is another species of whale. It is 
generally less than sixteen feet in length, and dif- 
fers but little from a small whale, excepting that 
it has a long spiral tooth or tusk, which has ob- 
tained for it the name of Unicorn. This tooth 



36 



THE WHALE. 



grows from the left side of the head, and is some^ 
times nine or ten feet long. The use of this sin- 
gular and formidable tusk is not known. 

The Narvval is a harmless animal. It is easily 
taken; sometimes being shot with a rifle, and at 
other times harpooned. It usually yields two or 
three tuns of fine oil. The Greenlanders and Es- 
quimaux employ the whole animal for various uses* 
The flesh is eaten; the oil burned in their lamps; 
the intestines wrought into fines and dresses; and 
the tusks used for spears. It is said that the king 
of Denmark has a magnificent and valuable throne 
made entirely of Narwal tusks. 

I have now told you, my son, about the several 
kinds of whales which are found in the ocean, 
excepting one." 

"Pray, father, what is that?" asked Wilfiam. 

"The Common Whale, — I say common, be- 
cause it is more abundant than the other kinds; or, 
at least, is more productive of oil, and is sought 
after by fishermen, as upon the whole more valu- 
able. I have read many great stories about the 
size of the whale; but the longest which I ever 
measured was sixty feet. Some have been taken 
which were a few feet longer, but any seldom, if 
ever, exceed seventy feet. In the largest place 



THE WHALE. 39 

they are from ten to twelve feet throngh, or from 
thirty to forty feet in circumference. Its head is 
generally about one third of its length, and when 
its mouth is open, it is capable of holding a mer- 
chant ship's jolly-boat, filled with men." 

"Father," said Wilham, "in the picture which 
you bave shown me of the whale, I can see no ears 
—did the engraver forget to put them on?" 

"He very properly omitted them," replied Cap- 
tain Russel, " because it has no external ear, and 
no hole or orifice for the admission of sound, can 
be discovered till the skin is removed." 

"Can he hear quick, thenf 

"No, he seems dull of hearing. Even the shout 
of a person, when only at the distance of a ship's 
length, seems to be unnoticed by him; but when 
the water is calm, a slight splashing alarms him." 

"Does he see objects at a great distance!" 

"When lying on the surface of the water, he 
does not see far; but, when under the surface, 
whales discover one afiother in clear water at an 
amazing distance; yet their eyes are not much 
larger than those of a common sized ox." 

"In what part of the whale is the whale-bone 
found!" asked William. 

"In the mouth," rephed Captain Russel, "across 



40 THE WHALE. 

which it lies in layers, called lamincB; upwards of 
three hundred of which are found in every full 
grown whale. These layers, in their greatest 
length, are sometimes fifteen feet, but generally 
from ten to twelve. Immediately under the skin 
lies the blubber, or fat, which is from eight to ten, 
and even twenty inches thick, varying in different 
parts, as well as in different individuals. The 
color of the whale is velvet black, grey, and some- 
times white, with a tinge of yellow. The color 
of the blubber is yellowish white; sometimes yel- 
low, or red. In its fresh state it has no unpleasant 
smell, and it is not until the end of the voyage, 
when the cargo of a whale-ship is unstowed, that 
the latter becomes disagreeable. 

The tail of the whale is a great curiosity. Its 
length is seldom more than five or six feet; but 
its width is from eighteen to twenty-four. By 
means of this, it urges its bulky weight through 
the billows and depths of the ocean, and ascends 
to the surface with such rapidity as to throw its 
huge form ahiiost entirely out of water. Some- 
times he places himself in a perpendicular posi- 
tion, with his head downwards, and rearing his 
tale on high, beats the water with awful violence. 
On these occasions, the sea foams, and vapors 



WHALE SHIPS, BOATS, AND INSTRUMENTS. ^ j 

dgfrken the air; the lashing is heard several miles 
off, like the roar of a distant tempest." 

''Is it known, father," inquired Wilham, "upon 
what whales live f 

" Some kinds live upon herring, and perhaps 
larger fish ; but the food of the common whale is 
a kind of insect, which is said to be no larger than 
a bean. This insect floats in clusters upon the 
ocean, and is their principal food." 

" Is it known to what age whales attain f ' 

"Not with certainty, although it is supposed 
they live to a great age. At twenty or twenty-five 
years, they reach their full growth. After this age, 
the blubber is harder, and yields less oil, and the 
color of the whale becomes more grey, with a yel- 
lowish tinge of the white parts about the head." 



WHALE SHIPS, BOATS, AND INSTRUMENTS 

"Before I tell you about the manner in which 
whales are taken," continued Capt. Russel, "it will 
be proper to let you know something of the vessels, 
boats, and instruments used in this business. 

The first object is to fit out a ship suited to the 
trade. Formerly, whale-ships were so slightly 
built, that many of them were lost amidst the 



^^2 WHALE SHIPS, BOATS, AND INSTRUMENTS. 

tempests and ice with which the polar regi<51is 
abound. Those of later construction possess a 
peculiar degree of strength. 

Whale-ships are of different dimensions ; but 
those of about 340 tons are thought to be most 
desirable. Each ship is furnished with several 
boats, and manned with forty to fifty seamen* 

The boats being very liable to receive damage^ 
are built with reference to strength and buoyancy* 
The largest kind, called six-oared boats, are able 
to carry seven men, six of whom, besides the har- 
pooner, are rowers. Besides the men, they earfy 
six or eight hundred weight of whale-lines. The 
other boats are somewhat smaller, being five-oared 
boats, four-oared boats, &c. 

In the capture of whales, the most important 
instrument, perhaps, is the harpoon, which is made 
of iron, and about three feet in length. (See Fig. 1.) 

Next in importance to the harpoon, is the lance, 
which is a spear of iron of the length of six feet. 
The blade of this instrument is made very thin, 
and exceedingly sharp. (See Fig. 2.) The use of 
this is, to penetrate the vital parts of the whale, 
and to occasion his death. 

Another instrument which has sometimes beefl 
used, is called the hai'poon-gun. (See Fig. 3.) It 



43 




M 



page 40, 




MODE OF CAPTURING THE WHALE. ^^ 

consists of a kind of swivel, with a wrought iron 
barrel about two feet in length. This gun was 
invented in the year 1731, and has since been 
much improved. A harpoon made for the pur- 
pose, {See Fig. 4.) it is said may be throw^n from it 
with effect, for the distance of forty yards. 

As soon as a whaling-ship has arrived in those 
seas which are the haunt of the wiiale, the crew 
must be every moment on the alert, keeping 
watch day and night. The boats are kept 
hanging by the sides of the ship, ready to be 
launched in a few minutes, and when the state 
of the sea admits, one of them is usually manned 
and afloat. The captain, or some principal offi- 
cer, seated in the main top, surveys the w^aters 
to a great distance, and the instant he sees the 
back of the huge animal which tiiey seek to at- 
tack, emerging from the waves, gives notice to 
the watch, who are stationed on deck ; part of 
whom leap into a boat, w4iich is instantly low- 
ered down, and followed by a second, if the fish 
be a large one. Each of the boats has a har- 
pooner, and one or two subordinate officers, and 
is provided with an immense quantity of rope 
coiled together and stowed in different quarters 
of it, the several parts being spHced together, so 

3 



4^ MDDE OF CAPTURING THE WHALE. 

as to form a continued line, usually exceeding 
four thousand feet in length. To the end is at- 
tached the harpoon, an instrument formed, not to 
pierce and kill the animal, but, by entering and 
remaining fixed in the body, to prevent its escape. 
One of the boats is now rowed towards the whale, 
in the deepest silence, cautiously avoiding to give 
an alarm, of which he is very susceptible. Hav- 
ing approached as near as is consistent with 
safety, the harpooner darts his instrument into 
the back of the monster. 

This is a critical moment; for when this mighty 
animal feels himself struck, he often throws him- 
self into violent convulsive movements, vibrating 
in the air his tremendous tail, one lash of which 
is sufficient to dash a boat in pieces. More com- 
monly, however, he plunges with rapid flight into 
the depths of the sea, or beneath the thickest 
fields and mountains of ice. While he is thus 
moving with such rapidity, the utmost diligence 
must be used, that the line to which the harpoon 
is attached may run off smoothly and readily 
along with him. Should it be entangled for a 
moment, the strength of the whale is suchj that 
lie would draw the boat and crew after him un- 
der the watei*^ 



MODE OF CAPTURING THE WHALE. 



47 



The first boat ought to be quickly followed 
by a second, to supply more line when the 
first is run out, which often takes place in eight 
or ten minutes. When the crew of a boat see 
the line in danger of being all run off, they hold 
up, one, two, or three oars, to intimate their press- 
ing need of a supply. At the same time, they 
turn the rope once or twice round a kind of post, 
called the bollard, by which the motion of the 
line, and the career of the animal, are somewhat 
retarded. This, however, is a delicate operation, 
which brings the side of the boat down to the 
very edge of the water, and if the rope is drawn 
at all too tight, may sink it altogether. While 
the line is whirling round the bollard, the friction 
is so violent, that the harpooner is enveloped in 
smoke, and water must be constantly poured on 
to prevent it from catching^re. When, after all, 
no aid arrives, and the crews find that the line 
must run out, they have only one resource, — 
they cut it, losing thereby, not only the whale, 
but the harpoon and all the ropes of the boat. 

The period during which a wounded whale 
remains under water is various, but is averaged 
by Mr. Scoresby at half an hour. Then, pressed 
by the necessity of respiration, he appears above, 



48 



MODE OF CAPTURING THE WHALE. 



often considerably distant from the spot where 
he was harpooned, and in a state of great ex- 
haustion, which the same ingenious writer as- 
cribes to the severe pressure that he has endure], 
when placed beneath a column of water seven or 
eight hundred fathoms deep. 

All the boats have, in the mean-time, been 
spreading themselves in various directions, that 
one at least may be within a start, as it is called, 
of the point of his rising, where they can easily 
reach him with one or two more harpoons before 
he again descends, as he usually stays at the sur- 
face for a few minutes. On his re-appearance, a 
general attack is made with lances, which are 
struck as deep as possible, to reach and penetrate 
the vital parts. Blood, mixed with oil, streams 
copiously from his wounds and from the blow- 
holes, dyeing the sea to a great distance, and 
sometimes drenching the boats and crews. 

The animal now becomes more and more ex- 
hausted ; but at the approach of his dissolution 
he often makes a convulsive and energetic strug- 
gle, rearing his tail high in the air, and whirling 
it with a noise which is heard at the distance of 
several miles. At length, quite overpowered 
and exhausted, he lays himself on his side or 



• 50 




page 53 



DANGERS OF THE WHALE FISHERY. g-j 

back and expires. No time is lost in piercing 
the tail with two holes, through which ropes are 
passed, which being fastened to the boats, they 
drag the fish to the vessel amid shouts of joy. 

The whale being thus caught and secured to 
the sides of the ship, the next operation is that 
of Jiensing ; that is, extracting the blubber and 
whale-bone, about which I have told you suffi- 
cient to give you a general idea ; excepting that 
in the case of the common whale, the blubber is 
kept in casks until the arrival of the vessel at 
home, when the oil is extracted in large copper 
boilers." 



DANGERS OF THE WHALE-FISHERY. 

Here William interrupted his father, by ob- 
serving, that even if it were a toilsome business, 
whale catching must be a pleasant employment. 

" Ah !" exclaimed the old grandfather, " had 
you seen as much as I have of it, you would 
think it more than toilsome." 

" Yes, indeed," said Capt. Russel. " In spite 
of the utmost care, the dangers are imminent 
and manifold. Few men nursue the business 

3* 



52 



DANGERS OF THE WliALE FISHERY. 



many years without seeing others suffer and per- 
ish, if calamity does not come upon themselves." 
" Pray father," inquired WiUiam, " wherein 
lies the great danger ? I thought the danger just 
enough to give some life and interest to the busi- 



ness." 



"Well," said Captain Russel, "I must relate 
some of the catastrophes which have befallen 
whaling-ships and their crews, and then, master 
William, we will leave you to say whether this 
kind of life has more of pleasure than of danger. 

Whalers are often in very great danger by rea- 
son of the whale, which they are pursuing, be- 
coming much enraged, and suddenly turning 
upon them. The Dutch wi iters mention a man 
by the name of Vienkes, who, after a whale had 
been struck, was hastening with a second boat 
to the support of the first. The fish, however, 
rose, and with its head struck the boat so furi- 
ously, that it was shivered to pieces, and Vienkes 
w^as thrown with its fragments on the back of 
the huge animal. Even then this bold mariner 
darted a second harpoon into the body of his 
victim ; but unfortunately he got entangled in 
the line and could not extricate himself, while 
the other party were unable to approach near 



DANGERS OF THE WHALE FISHERY. 



53 



enough to save him. At last, however, the har- 
poon was disengaged, and he swam to the boat. 

Mr. Scoresby, in one of his earliest voyages, 
saw a boat thrown several yards into the air, 
from which it fell on its side, plunging the crew 
into the sea. They were happily soon taken up, 
when only one was found to have received severe 
i\ijury. A ship on the Labrador coast, in 1802, 
h^d a boat thrown fifteen feet into the air. It 
caW down into the water, with its keel up- 
wards ; but fortunately all the men except one 
were saved. 

The crew of Mr. Scoresby, the elder, in 1807, 
had struck a whale, which soon re-appeared, 
but in a state of such violent ao:itation that no 
one durst approach it. The captain courage- 
ously undertook to encounter it, in a boat by 
himself, and succeeded in striking a second har- 
poon. But another boat having advanced too 
close, the animal brandished its tail with so much 
fury, that the harpooner, who was directly under, 
judged it most prudent to leap into the sea. And 
it was well for him that he did so, for the tail 
struck the boat in the very place that he had 
left, and cut the boat entirely asunder, so that 



54 



DANGERS OF THE WHALE FISHERY. 



if he had remained he must have been dashed in 
pieces. Happily all the others escaped injmy. 

The results, however, are not alwavs so for- 
tunate. The Aimwell, of Whitby, in 1810, lost 
three men out of seven; and in 1812, the Hen- 
rietta, of the same port, lost four men out of six, 
by the boats being upset and the crews thrown 
into the sea. 

In 1809, one of the men belonging to the Res- 
olution, of Whitby, struck a sucking w hale ; after 
which the mother, being seen wheeling rapidly 
round, was narrowly watched. Mr. vScoresby, 
being on this occasion the harpooner of another 
boat, w^as selecting the situation where the parent 
fish would probably re-appear, when suddenly 
an invisible blow from the animal beneath the 
water, stove in fifteen feet of the bottom of his 
boat, which filled with water and instantly sunk. 
The crew were, however, saved. 

Entanglement in the line, wliile the retreating 
whale is drawing it off with rapidity, is often 
productive of serious disastei's. A sailor, be- 
lonsino; to the John, of Greenock, in 1818, hap- 
pening to step into a coil of running rope, had a 
foot entirely carried off, and was obliged to have 
the lower part of the leg amputated. 



DANGERS OF THE WHALE FISHERY. 55 

A harpooner, belonging to the Henrietta, of 
Whitby, very imprudently threw some of the 
line under his feet. A sudden start of the fish 
made it twist round his body. He had just time 
to cry out — " Clear away the line ! Oh dear 1" 
when he was cut almost asunder, dragged over- 
board, and never more seen. 

A whale sometimes causes great danger by 
proving to he alive, after being supposed to be 
dead. Mr. Scoresby mentions one which ap- 
peared to be so decidedly dead, that he himself 
had leaped on the tail, and was busy putting a 
rope through it, when he suddenly felt the ani- 
mal sinking from under him. He made a spring 
towards a boat some yards distant — succeeded in 
catchino: hold of it, and was assisted on board. 
The fish then moved forwards, reared his tail aloft, 
and shook it with such prodigious violence, that it 
resounded to the distance of several miles. After 
a few minutes of this violent exertion, he rolled on 
his side and expired. 

Even after life is extinct^ all danger is not over. 
In the operation of flensing, the harpooners some- 
times fall into the whale's mouth, and are in danger 
of being drowned. If there is a heavy swell, they 
are drenched, and sometimes washed over by the 



f -^r n 



56 



DANGERS OF THK WHALE FISHERV. 



surge. Sometimes they have their ropes broken, 
and are womided by each others' knives. 

Mr. Scoresby mentions a harpooner who, after 
the flensing was completed, had his foot attached 
by a hook to the carcass, when the latter was in- 
advertently cut away. The man caught hold of 
the gunwale of the boat. But the whole im- 
mense mass being now suspended by his body, 
occasioned the most excruciating torture, and 
even exposed him to the danger of being torn in 
two. His companions, however, contrived to 
hook the carcass with a grapnel and bring it 
back to the surface. 

A story is related of the escape of a whale, in 
the year 1812, from a boat's crew belonging to 
the Resolution, Capt. Whitby, which would be 
quite incredible, were it not well attested. This 
whale, being struck, soon run out the first boat's 
lines, and indeed, the lines which belonged to 
a second and a third boat, which came to the 
assistance of the first. A signal was made for 
still more line, and a boat was despatched to 
carry relief But before the whale-boat could 
be reached, she was on a level with the water, 
being almost pulled under by the fugitive \^iale, 
while the harpooner, from the friction of the line, 



CangeRs of the whale fishery. ^j 

was enveloped in smoke. At length, says th^ 
author to whom we are indebted for the story,- 
when the rehef was within a hundred yards^ 
the crew were seen to throw their jackets upon 
the nearest ice, and then leap into the sea. Aftei* 
tliis^ the end of the boat rose into the air, and 
making a majestic curve, was drawn beneath the 
waters with all the lines attached to it The 
crew were saved. A vigorous pursuit was im^ 
mediately commenced. The whale, being traced 
through narrow and intricate channels in the ice^ 
was at length discovered considerably to the east- 
ward. Three harpoons were then darted at him. 
The lines of two other boats were then run 
out, vvdien, by an accidental entanglement, they 
broke, and the whale went off with about four 
miles of rope, which, with the boat, were valued 
at $700. The daring; fishers ag-ain gave chase, 
The whale was seen, but again escaped. A 
third time it appeared— the whalers reached it 
Two more harpoons were struck into it. The 
animal being now plied with lances, became 
entirely exhausted and yielded to its fate. It had 
by that time drawn out ten thousand four hun- 
dred and forty yards^ or about six miles of line. 
Unfortunately one of the harpoons had been dis« 



58 



SHIPWRECKS liN THE NORTHERN SEAS. 



engaged, and a boat and thirteen lines, nearly 
two miles in length, attached to it, were de- 
tached and never recovered. 

Several accounts are given by the same writer 
of distressing shipwrecks which have occurred in 
the northern seas. One of these, which I will 
relate, took place in the year 1777. 

Capt. Broerties, in the Guillamine, arrived at 
the great bank of northern ice on the 22nd of 
June. Here he found fifty vessels moored and 
busied in the fishery. He began it very pros- 
perously. Indeed, the \^Ty next day he killed 
a large whale. The day after, a tempest drove 
in the ice with such violence, that twenty-seven 
of the ships were surrounded, of which ten were 
lost. On the 25th of July, Broerties saw sonie 
appearance of an opening, and caused his vessel to 
be warped through by the boats. But after four 
days' labor she found herself, with four other ships,, 
in a narrow basin, enclosed by ice on every side. 

On the 1st of August, a violent storm began, 
which driving the ice against the vessels, placed 
them in the greatest danger for several days. On 
the 20th, a dreadful gale arose from the north- 
east, in which the Guillamine suffered considera- 
ble damage. In this awful tempest, two of the 




page 58 



SHIPWRECKS IN THE NORTHERN SEAS. 



61 



five ships went down, while a third sprung a 
number of leaks. The crews were taken on 
board the three remaining vessels, which made 
them very much crowded. On the 25th all 
three were completel}^ frozen in. It was now 
resolved to send a party of twelve men to seek 
aid from four vessels, which had been driven a 
few davs before into a station at a little distance 
On their arrival, they found two of these had 
been dashed in pieces, and the other two were in 
a most deplorable condition. Two other ships, 
somewhat farther off, had perished in a similar 
manner. Meantime, the former came in sight of 
Greenland, and the tempest still driving them 
southward, Iceland at length was seen to their 
left. The two more distant vessels found a little 
opening, through which they contrived to escape. 
The crews of the three others were beginning to 
hope that they might do the same, when, on the 
13th of September, a whole mountain of ice fell 
upon the Guillamine. The poor sailors, half 
naked, jumped out upon the frozen surface. 
They saved with great difficulty only a small 
portion of their provisions. One of the t^YO other 
ships had just met a similar fate. There now 
remained only one, to which they all looked for 
refuge. By leaping from one piece of ice to 



62 



SHIPWRECKS IN THE NORTHERN SEAS. 



another, they contrived to reach this vessel, 
which, though in extreme distress herself, re- 
ceived them on board. Though now so shat- 
tered and over-crowded, she was obliged, imme^ 
diately after, to accommodate fifty other seamen. 
These were the crew of another vessel, which 
had just gone down ; the chief harpooner and 
twelve of the sailors having perished. These 
numerous companies, crowded into a crazy bark, 
suffered every kind of distress. Their distress, 
however, was increased, when, on the 11th of 
October, the vessel went to pieces, in the same 
manner as the others had done ; leaving the poor 
sailors hardly time to leap upon the ice with 
their remaining provisions. With great diffi^ 
culty they reached a field of ice of some extent 
Here they made a sort of tent with their torn 
sails, which they had saved. But if they re- 
mained here they must certainly perish. They 
saw no way of escape except by scrambling over 
the frozen surface to the coast of Greenland, 
which was in sight. After much toil and danger 
they accomplished their object. Happily, they 
met with some inhabitants, who received them 
hospitably, and fed them with dried fish and seal's 
flesh After the extreme hunger they had suf- 
fomd> this seemed delicious food, Thence they^ 



CONCLUSION. 



63 



traveled across the clrearj country, suffering 
much distress. They at length reached the 
Danish settlement of Frederikshaab. Here they 
were kindly treated, and at length were enabled 
to return to their native country/' 

Capt. Russel paused, after he had finished the 
stories, and William, who had listened very 
attentively, covered his face wdth his hands, and 
seemed to be thinking about something very im^ 
portant. At length he said,— ^" Father, those are 
dreadful stories which you have been telling us." 

"And yet, my son," said Capt. Russel, "yoil 
are washing to share in similar toils and perils/' 

" I— I don't know," said Wilham. 

" Oh," said Anne, " I should feel very bad in-= 
deed, if brother William should go to sea. How 
dreadful it would be, should he be wrecked !" 

"Look, William," said Capt. Russel — "look 
at your mother, and see how pale she is at the 
thougJit of your going." 

Wilham Was an affectionate son, and he flew td 
comfort his mother. Throwing his arms around 
her neck, he exclaimed — * 

" Mother — dear mother — -I did not know that 
whaling was so dangerous. I only thought hoW 
glad I should be to see you all after a successful 
Voyage, and bow happy we should all be. I did 
not think about your atixiety w^hile I wag goue 



64 



CONCLUSION. 



I will be a farmer, a merchant, or whatever else, 
you wish me to be, and I dare say that I shall 
be happier than I should be, half frozen in the 
main-top, looking out for a whale." 

Mrs. Russel smiled as she pressed her darling 
boy in her arms ; but the tears came into her 
eyes as she said — 

"I shall feel bad enough, when you have to 
leave us, my dear WiUiam, though you should 
go but a short distance from home ; but I should 
be distressed indeed to have you depart on such 
a perilous enterprize. But, my children, you 
look tired. You have been so much interested 
in your father's stories, as to forget that it is 
quite late." 

" I do feel sleepy," said Anne. " I'm sure I 
shall dream to night about whales as long as 
from the ground to the top of the church-steeple." 

" I hope," said the old grandfather, " that my 
dear little grand-children will not forget, before 
they go to sleep, to thank that kind Providence 
which has preserved their father through danger 
and hardships, and once more restored him to us." 



END 



eS 1904 



i — <E3ar*''- oi.*»vg>>— 



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Simple Stories in Simple Rhyme 
Uiiving Experience. 
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IV E W T A f i E 8 

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121 CHAPELJlTRIiT 



